Touch
by p-inkjeans
Summary: Elliot goes to Olivia for comfort after a case. Rated M for language and some smut. Reviews are appreciated. :.


**Disclaimer**: If they were mine, I'd be driving a nicer car.

**Author's Notes**: Just a quick one shot I did for some challenges using the prompts "touch" and "mushrooms". You'll see. Reviews - especially constructive criticism - are appreciated. Let's hope I didn't butcher them too much. Indirect references to 7.19 Fault and spoilers for S8, but nothing too major.

* * *

She's sound asleep on the couch, the TV blaring in the background. It's only ten-thirty, but she's exhausted. So tired she hadn't even been able to make it to the bedroom when she got home from work. She had turned on the TV to drown out the noises of the people next door having one of their incredibly loud fights and has been asleep ever since.

Between her exhaustion and the noise from the TV, she doesn't hear the loud knocking, nor does she hear the sound of her spare key in her front door, or the sound of it closing softly behind her visitor. It isn't until he turns off the TV and lifts her feet so he can sit down on the couch that she finally wakes, stopping herself just before she screams. "Jesus Christ, Elliot!" she says when her eyes focus and she realizes it's him. "How'd you get in?"

"I have a key, remember?" he says, and she knows something's up when he doesn't so much as crack a smile at her reaction to him sneaking up on her. "Sorry, I just ..." he shrugs.

Olivia nods, understanding immediately. Even though months have passed since they've worked together, she still knows her former partner better than anyone. She can tell just by the tired and defeated look in his eyes, by the way he's sitting, that he has been dealing with one of the cases that just doesn't go away. "What happened?" she asks.

He shakes his head slightly, his signal that he's not ready to talk about it. "You look exhausted."

"I am," she says, yawning. "We've been working this case for weeks and finally got a break last night. I've been up for thirty-six hours."

"Go back to sleep," Elliot says, starting to stand. "I'll call you tomorrow. I'm fine."

"Elliot, sit down," she tells him. "You wouldn't be here if you were fine. Now, either you talk or you don't, but you're not leaving here until I find out what's bothering you."

He sits down again, leaning his head against the back of the couch. "How's work?"

She rolls her eyes and leans back, her feet still on his lap. "It's okay. I miss SVU, but ..." she shrugs.

"You coming back?" She can't help but notice the hopeful tone in his voice.

"Yes," she answers honestly. "But not yet. I just need more time."

He nods, then looks up at the ceiling in her dark living room. He was angry at first, when she used those words. But in the weeks and months since she left, he's started to understand her choices more and resent them a little less. "Kathy has a boyfriend," he says softly, not looking at her. "Robert. He's a Pediatrician."

She doesn't say a word, knowing that if she interrupts him, he'll close up again. After she left the second time, he didn't speak to her for nearly three months. It's only been three weeks that they've been talking again, but in that short time, she's started to feel as if she knows him again, the way she did during the first couple of years together. She knows when to push and ask questions, when to let him do the talking. She knows the little nuances of his character again, the things she'd forgotten in their last year together, when the silence stopped being comforting and became awkward.

Elliot, however, closes up again, and turns his head to look at her. "You hungry?"

She nods, trying not to look disappointed that he'd stopped talking. She expected it, but that doesn't make it any easier when he closes himself off. "I'll order a pizza," she tells him, reaching for her phone. She dials the number for Mario's down the street and orders a large with mushrooms.

"You like your pizza plain," he says, raising an eyebrow at her.

"You like yours with mushrooms," she says simply, and closes her eyes against the darkness of her apartment. "How are your kids?"

"Good," he says, his eyes regaining some life as he speaks. "Maureen's applying for study abroad. She wants to do her last semester in Ireland. Kathleen loves Pittsburgh...I just wish she'd chosen someplace a little closer. Dickie's soccer team finished second in the city championships and Liz just brought home a report card with straight As."

Olivia grins, a devious look in her brown eyes. "Kathleen e-mailed me last week. My aunt lived in Pittsburgh for a while and I hung out there a lot when I was a teenager, so I told her all the clubs and bars she should visit. There's one where the barten-"

"Liv, shut up," he says, cracking a smile. "You know I can tell when you're lying."

Olivia grins. "Kathleen really did e-mail me, though. You've got nothing to worry about, El. She's a good kid."

"Liz is the one I'm worried about," he says softly.

"You just said she got straight As. I'm pretty sure her grades would be dropping if there's anything you need to worry about. You talk to them and pay attention and you're there when they have questions. Your kids are fine."

He shrugs. "Yeah, I guess."

"Elliot, what's bothering you? I'm trying to connect all the pieces here and it's just not making sense to me."

He leans his head back again, running his hand over his face. "We picked up a case today. Barely had to do any work, you know? Already got a confession, only had to leave the station once, and Casey's starting the paperwork first thing in the morning." He pauses, shaking his head slightly, and she can hear the unspoken words. _Doesn't make it any easier, though_. "This woman came in with her twelve-year-old daughter. She was a mess...said she'd found her daughter's diary and read that her fiance, who was living with them, had been abusing her for months. This guy...he's a fucking teacher, Liv. He's supposed to help kids, not hurt them." She nods, reaching for his hand and squeezing it tightly. "I just...when the girl was talking to me about her mom's fiance, about this fucking bastard who had taken away her childhood... She reminded me so much of Elizabeth. The way she spoke, the way she looked at me like I could fix everything. She said that she had trusted him because her mom had trusted him, and she didn't think her mom would let someone in the house who was going to hurt her." He shakes his head. "What if..." he trails off, shaking his head again, and leaning back against the couch. He makes a fist with one hand and she can see the anger, the hatred, but most of all the fear that is coursing through his veins.

"Elliot..." she starts, not sure what to say. But before she can get the words out, she hears the buzzer and Elliot gets up quickly, welcoming the interruption.

"I'll get it," he says on his way towards the door, disappearing into the hallway and down two flights of stairs. She sits there in the darkness for a moment, not sure how to comfort him when he gets back. How to tell him that his daughter is safe, when she has no way of knowing that.

When Elliot returns, he doesn't even look at her. He gets paper plates and two beers from the kitchen and sits down again, looking at the TV as he eats, although it hasn't been turned back on. He drains the rest of his Guinness just as Olivia reaches over and squeezes his free hand. He sets the empty bottle on the coffee table and squeezes her hand in return. He sighs, but she speaks before he can find the words to tell her he doesn't want to talk about it anymore.

"Elliot. Kathy would never let someone like that around your kids. You know that. She knows the warning signs, she knows how to talk to the kids and you guys have, ever since they were little. They know to yell and scream and tell an adult and they would, immediately. They're safe, El."

"What if Kathy trusts someone she shouldn't?" Elliot asks, running his hand over the back of his neck. "What if he seems-"

"Women date men who are similar, El. All the guys I've ever dated were the same deep down. Maybe that's why I'm still single," she jokes, trying to make him smile. "Most women do the same. She was married to you for twenty years and loved you for even longer. Robert's probably a lot like you. Your kids are safe."

He nods. "I just ... The thing is, I miss being married and I miss being around my kids all the time, but I don't regret the divorce, at least not anymore. I know it was best. I wish things had been different, but I wanted her to be happy and I know that she is now. I just couldn't give her what she needed anymore. Sometimes, though, I just wish I was there so that I knew they were safe. So that I wouldn't have to worry that someone else is there and isn't protecting them, or worse, is hurting them while I'm way the hell over here in Manhattan and only seeing them every other weekend."

"Are you happy?" she asks after a moment. "You said that Kathy is, but what about you?"

He shrugs. "Sometimes. I am..." he trails off and squeezes her hand. He doesn't say the words, but she can hear him loud and clear: _when I'm with you_. "I am, Liv. I just miss my kids. And I'm afraid that they're not okay. That no matter how amazing they do in school and in sports and how great they are as people that there's something going on that I don't know about."

"Your kids are fine, Elliot. They're happy and healthy and even if you aren't there all the time, you take care of them and keep them safe and they know that. And anyone who is around them knows that, too." He nods, looking down at the floor. "Come here," she says softly, pushing him forward until she can sit behind him. She softly rubs his neck and back, helping the muscles to relax. "You're so tense."

"This is news?" he asks, smirking, leaning his head forward. "I just...I can't stop thinking... What if someone hurt one of my daughters, Liv? What if they didn't tell anyone?"

"They would, Elliot," Olivia tells him, resting her forehead against his back as she softly caresses him, comforting him. She doesn't remember when it became okay to touch him, when it was okay for them to hold hands as he talked about cases that he just can't get rid of. But it doesn't feel awkward as she calms him with just her hands, in a way that words never could.

"Make me forget, Olivia," he pleads softly, his voice broken. He turns to face her and she can see the need in his eyes. Not for pleasure, but for connection. For her touch. For her love. "Please."

She nods, understanding all too well what he needs from her tonight. He needs to be close to someone, to remember that life doesn't have to hurt this much. She has felt that way on more than one occasion, and so she leans forward until their lips touch. It isn't the first time they've kissed. It had happened for the first time after she told him she was leaving SVU again. But then it had been different, filled with pent-up anger and obvious sadness. One that was meant to say goodbye. This time, when she parts his lips with her tongue, it's filled with hope and love. One that's meant to heal. The kiss deepens quickly, their mouths making love before they even get their clothes off. She breaks away from the kiss, moves until she's straddling him, then kisses him again while his hands work their way towards the clasp on her bra.

She stops him and shakes her head. "Let me do this for you. Don't-"

"No," he says, moving his lips to her neck and unhooking it with one hand. "I want you, Olivia. I want to see you...and feel you. I want to be inside of you," he whispers against her ear. "I want to make you scream my name," he adds, his voice barely audible, but having the desired result.

She closes her eyes, his words arousing her even more than his touch. She moans softly as he thumbs her nipple with one hand and unzips her jeans with the other. "Make love to me," she pleads, feeling him harden against her more with each passing moment.

He nods, his lips meeting hers again as he pushes her jeans down, her underwear following close behind. His hand moves slowly up the inside of her thigh, his fingers immediately finding exactly the right spots to caress. She leans her forehead against his shoulder and groans. "Please, Elliot."

She pushes his hands away and practically rips off his shirt as he pushes off his jeans. She slips her own shirt over her head, her chest pressed against him, her lips resting against his but not moving for a moment. His eyes meet hers and he kisses her, his tongue parting her lips as he pushes inside of her. She groans, deepening the kiss as she moves her hips against his, taking him deeper in hopes that maybe he can feel something tonight other than anger and fear. They move together, their mouths parting only when they need air, their bodies so close together that she can feel his heartbeat against hers, faster with each movement.

"Elliot..." she says, groaning, her nails digging into his back. Her mouth is against his ear and she practically sends him over the edge when she moans his name.

"Olivia," he whispers, one hand reaching for her breast. He rolls her nipple between his fingers, her back arching as she finally falls, his own climax right behind hers. She collapses against him, her chest heaving against his.

She mumbles something inaudible, her lips against his neck as her hands caress his sweaty back.

He presses small kisses to her neck and collar bone, their bodies still connected. "Let's go to bed," he whispers, finally looking her in the eye. She sees something there. Something she's never seen in his eyes before when he looks at her.

She swallows hard, realizing what they've just done. "You don't have to-"

"I want to," he says, looking her right in the eye. "I want to wake up next to you tomorrow morning."

She nods, swallowing the emotion that's in her throat, and carefully stands, reaching for his NYPD t-shirt and his boxers. She hands him the boxers, but keeps the shirt for herself, then leads him to the bedroom. They climb into bed in a comfortable silence, one that reminds her of their first years together, when nothing needed to be said. His arms immediately wrap around her and he kisses her softly. Their tongues barely meeting before he breaks away, pressing his forehead against hers. "Olivia, I-"

"Shhh," she tells him, resting her lips against his. "Me too." She closes her eyes against his chest, her hand resting on his back, her touch comforting him as he drifts off to sleep.


End file.
